


Brother May I

by ode_to_an_inkwell



Series: Games of Innocence [6]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, Innocence/Sins, sibling romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-23
Updated: 2020-06-23
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:53:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24876478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ode_to_an_inkwell/pseuds/ode_to_an_inkwell
Summary: Sansa finds Jon in her room and decides to play a game with him.
Relationships: Jon Snow/Sansa Stark
Series: Games of Innocence [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1688002
Comments: 21
Kudos: 80





	Brother May I

**Author's Note:**

> 'Brother May I' was going to be much dirtier of a premise, but I rearranged some things. I prioritize feelings because, without them, the smut is never as satisfying. Still, this fic was a blast to write. I hope you enjoy!

Ygritte never kissed Jon again. She was a bit of a flirt, but wouldn’t jeopardize her friendship by crossing any boundaries. The tensions abated and Sansa spent most of the school year with her friends. Jon could’ve sworn she was hiding from him.

She started leaving rooms the moment he entered them, getting quiet whenever he spoke. He found himself seeking her out as he’d never done before. Sometimes he asked if she was angry with him. She would only brush him off.

Jon couldn’t forget the night she’d come to his room. There were mornings he’d stay in bed, pretend she was there with him. What was so wrong with wanting to hold his sister? She was made to be held, to be loved.

Her sixteenth birthday came and went, and he’d been too much of a coward to give Sansa the present he bought her. It was a stupid trinket anyway, something she might find childish. Weeks passed when Jon chose to sneak into her room and lay the necklace on her pillow.

The room smelled like her. Bottles of nail lacquer stood in formation on her desk. There was the light gray shade she favored. He lingered too long.

Steps came down the hall, the sound of heels on the wood unmistakable. He couldn’t hide, couldn’t leave the room without running into her. Nothing left to do but face the music. He sat on her bed, heart pounding.

At first she didn’t see him. Sansa kept her eyes to the floor as she kicked her shoes off. She looked up at last and jumped, let out a little yelp.

“What are you doing in here?” she asked, pressing a palm to her chest.

Jon ducked his head with guilt. “Trying to give you a birthday present.”

When he looked up again her bottom lip was between her teeth, arms wrapped about her torso. Her voice went low so he could barely hear her.

“What is it?”

He looped a finger through the silver chain and dangled the gift toward her. Sansa’s chest visibly expanded as she sucked in a breath.

“Why didn’t you give it to me before?”

“Why have you been avoiding me?”

She started to deny it. Jon fixed her with a stern look and the words died on her lips. She shut her door instead, gestured toward her gift.

“May I?”

It took him by surprise. He laughed, and she smiled in turn.

“What?”

Jon shook his head. “You just reminded me of when we were kids.”

Her expression soured. “I’m not a kid anymore.”

“I know.” He gulped. “I know that. But you remember that game we used to play? Mother may I?”

Sansa nodded. They soaked in the silence, eyes never parting. A new idea came upon her, pure mischief on her face.

“Brother may I take two steps forward?”

 _Thump_ in his chest, probably a cause for concern but he didn’t care. Jon balled the necklace up in his fist and rested it against his knee.

“You may.”

Those long legs carried her halfway across the room. He would have to slow her stride to make this game last any longer. Sansa held her hands behind her back in a display of obedience.

“Brother may I approach the bed?”

He shook his head. “You may take one step back.”

Her mouth formed a little circle of disbelief. Still, she took a much smaller stride away from him. She was a _very_ good girl.

“Brother may I take three steps forward?”

After a second of consideration, Jon said, “You may.”

She moved close enough to touch. This game was getting dangerous. Would she do _anything_ he said? Part of him was afraid to find out.

“Brother may I sit?”

Very dangerous. But how could he resist?

“You may.”

Sansa joined him on the bed. Something stirred low in his abdomen when she brushed her foot against his calf. It was the first contact they’d had in months.

“Brother may I have my present?”

“You may turn around.”

At her questioning look Jon motioned with his finger. She shifted on the bed so her back was to him. He brought the chain over her head, held it before her face. She raised a hand to touch the pendant.

“A dragonfly?”

The wings settled between her collarbones. Sansa pulled her hair over one shoulder.

“I saw this and thought of you,” he said as he fumbled with the clasp. “You loved that story when we were little. With the prince who married for love.”

“Prince Duncan,” she murmured.

Finished, Jon touched her back so she would turn to him once more. She was smiling like she used to, before she cared what people thought. That unrestrained joy always undid him. He had to clear his throat to speak.

“It looks good on you.”

Her eyes darkened, the innocence in their depths fleeing in the wake of something far more tempting. He watched her pink tongue slip out between her lips. Sansa’s voice dipped again, barely a breath between them.

“Brother may I kiss you?”

It was too long since he’d been so close. Any restraint acquired after years of exposure to her slipped away. He leaned into his sister, intent on her mouth.

The bed shifted beneath him as she leaned away.

Jon froze. Shame filled him when he realized his actions, made his stomach turn. He stood before she could question him, left before he could see the fear in her eyes. He was meant to protect Sansa, not scare her.

Sweet sister finally knew what he was. She must hate him now. No more, though, than he hated himself.

**Author's Note:**

> Just imagine what kind of sin I originally had in mind with 'Brother May I'. Don't worry, we'll get there.


End file.
